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father poem

pensate, il mio ragazzo, quando metto i miei bracci intorno voi
morbido come la base nella terra
a che cosa una donna la paragonerà cara
serene di pomeriggio e luminoso verdi
mai in tutta la mia vita
per verità, per amore
il mio figlio è guasto e sono ciechi andanti
mi domando dove vivete
lungo una riva del fiume

 



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